


A Just Cause

by LaWren0



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Blood, F/M, Hawke is really ready for a fight, Mage Rights or Mage Fights, Violence, because it's set roughly towards the beginning of act II, but they're still killing Templars in the most romantic way possible, while Anders is like 'babe chill'
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 04:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13046751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaWren0/pseuds/LaWren0
Summary: Hawke is volatile, listless and wanting, needing something more to fight for. She searches for it in lovers.Anders embodies Justice.





	A Just Cause

 

It is just a small cut really. A lucky nick a would-be-mugger got in before his swift demise, but she goes to the healer anyway.

He is glad she does. Anders warms his hands on a bedtime mug of hot chocolate - a luxury she had gifted him - before he touches her, and Hawke smiles. His hands are gentle on her thigh even if the texture is somewhat rough from time spent on the hardship that came with poverty. Her hands are similar now, calloused from the weight of her staff and all the things she'd had to do to keep her immigrant family afloat. Sometimes she thinks she sees red perpetually stuck under her fingernails, and she scrubs and scrubs but it never seems to go away.

His hands are rough, but not red. _A healer has the bloodiest hands_ , he'd once told her, but she never saw it in him. Anders touches her like she’s precious as his hands glow with healing magic, and her eyes close involuntary at the now familiar sensation. Hawke hates getting hurt but she likes being healed after; it’s so commonplace now it feels like home. _He_ feels like home. When she opens her eyes again his hands are still on her skin though the essence of magic faded away long ago. Anders looks tired as he always does, but in a peaceful way. His eyes look ready to fall closed as he stares at her, but there is a gentle smile on his face that makes her heart flip.

 _Is now the time?_ Hawke wonders hopefully.

Her lips part involuntarily in anticipation and his eyes are drawn there. His face is closer now than it was before, so close, and her eyes slide shut.

Anders inhales sharply and pulls back. Hawke feels empty as she usually does.

They say nothing. He throws her a pained look which she ignores as she busies herself with laying down on her medical cot for the night, curling into a ball. She tells herself she feels nothing. That she is not waiting.

 _It’s nothing._ She tells herself as she pulls Fenris in for another bruising kiss. She is surprised he has shown up out of the blue at her estate, but she won’t pass up the opportunity. _I don't need to wait._ His gauntlets are sharp on her hips but Hawke doesn't mind. She'll soon have them off.

She feels better, after. Less empty. Hawke drifts to sleep and dreams of white hair and glowing lyrium markings she would give anything to rid him of while they cause him pain. She dreams of protecting him and killing slavers and _never will his former master come near him again._

Fenris is too caught up in his own hurt to heal her own, as he has every right to be. She understands when he leaves. Or rather, she tries to. Hawke begins to believe there must be something repulsive about her. She can list many things that could be however, so she has no idea where to begin in changing herself.

Since she can’t do anything, Hawke simply seethes. It makes her feel somewhat better to cut through Tal-Vashoth on the Storm Coast, and deliberately does not think on what horror it is that blood and death by her hand makes her feel better. At least she is doing something, albeit somewhat recklessly. Aveline has to bail her out of a potentially dicey situation by ramming her shield into the Tal-Vashoth that had been about to swipe too close to Hawke's head, knocking him off balance enough to stop him. Hawke is grateful, though Fenris would have been the better choice to bring along, considering his knowledge of Qunari culture. She doesn’t want to see him. Because she is hurt by his rejection, and because she is a coward. She doesn't want to see either of them, but Anders is their only healer - an incredibly talented one at that - and she is not so selfish that she would risk her friend's lives over her personal failings.

Aveline sees the thankful look Hawke throws her, but does not question her carelessness, as expected. The guardswoman is a good friend and may do so later, but Aveline values order above most things, therefore she will only confront her when she believes it is the proper time and place. Right now they have a job to do.

Varric however, has no such proclivities. Once the most recent round of fighting is done, the dwarf gives Anders a suggestive nudge that does not go unnoticed by the leader of the group, and it only stokes her fury ever higher. What, are her methods a problem now? Worse, why push Anders towards her like he has some kind of influence over her? Does everyone know how pathetically weak she is for him?

“Hawke,” Anders asks gently, though he maintains a distant, neutral expression, “Is there something bothering you?”

She levels him with a vacant look that makes his insides go cold, but he does not look away. Hawke would admire his daring if she weren’t furious with the lot of them. She can only manage a stiff shake of her head before she goes back to killing. There’s no reason he should be concerned.

 _There’s nothing there,_ She thinks firmly, _nothing._

Isolating herself is for the best. She doesn't want to be angry with her friends - her surrogate family, truly - so she withdraws so as not to hurt them. Isabela is the only one audacious enough to challenge Hawke’s behaviour.

The pirate does not knock, “Don’t bite my head off, I brought booze.”

Hawke sighs. Isabela strides over to sit on the bed with her, and hums a tune quietly while she pours the wine. Hawke accepts the glass impartially, knowing that trying to resist Bella’s will is as pointless as the shore trying to resist particularly harsh waves crashing along it; one way or another she would inevitably wear you down.

“Is there something wrong with me?” Hawke asks instead.

Isabela wears the most sympathetic expression Hawke has ever seen on her, “No, darling, you’re just...” She sighs, struggling for softer words that are still the truth, “You’re a bit scary, you know?”

Hawke nods. She knows.

“People don’t know what to make of you and they fear the unknown,” Isabela continues frankly, “People like to have other people figured out, it makes them feel safer. You’re unpredictable and dangerous, and that’s a very intimidating combination.”

“So what do I do?”

Isabela shrugs, “Be yourself?”

Despite everything, Hawke laughs at the cliché. Still, it gets her thinking. She feels best when she’s taking action, doing something. She needs something to believe in, to fight for. There was a glimmer of something like that with Fenris, borne from her desire to protect him. She wanted _more._ Something bigger than herself.

“I think, I need a cause. Something to channel myself into.” Hawke mumbles thoughtfully.

“Or just a good shafting.” Isabela suggests with a gleam in her eye. Hawke laughs again, feeling warm and comforted.

“We don’t have any shafts, Bella.” She points out.

Isabela smirks as she boldly reaches over to loosen the ties on Hawke’s blouse,  “Oh well. They’re not always necessary anyway.”

Hawke thoroughly agrees with her.

Isabela is mostly exactly how she presents herself to the world. She has a softer heart and better morals than she would like people to think, but that is just about the extent of her deception. Otherwise, she is clearly carefree and knows what she wants and what she doesn’t. Hawke understands this, and so she understands what Isabela is doing for her. The only feelings between them are friendly. A deep and unabiding friendship she would die for, but nothing romantic. These clear, uncomplicated dynamics help a great deal, and Isabela is slowly able to drag Hawke out of her shell for drinks at the Hanged Man. Just as Varric is able to get Anders out of the clinic too.

 _How convenient._ Hawke thinks, but seeing him doesn't cause her insides to rebel so much anymore. In fact, Anders is the one who seems to be skittish around her now. Hawke sees his eyes fixate and narrow upon all the places Fenris’ hands brush against her comfortingly, apologetically throughout the night, and understands.

He wants her but he holds so much of himself back. He thinks she can’t possibly want the future he envisions, that accepting her help would get her hurt in the end, but he is wrong.

If he is too scared of hurting her to be with her, then fine, but she at least wants to help him fight Templars. They took her sister. They’ve been after her and her whole family all her life. She has a vested interest in putting them down, but Anders only seems to ask for her help when he has no other option. Like he expects to be rejected and challenged and fought with constantly. She supposes that is what he often has to deal with, among other things. Hawke admires his resilience despite this, his strength in the face of adversity, and his unwavering belief in his cause.

 _His cause._ She thinks interestedly, catching his eye. Hawke imagines her expression must be a fervent one, because Anders swallows harshly and seems to struggle to hold her gaze.

He does not expect support, but she gives it to him anyway. It’s the least he deserves, though she knows he believes he is worthy of very little. Hawke knew from the moment she met him he was brave and clever; one had to be, to avoid yet challenge both the Grey Wardens and the Chantry at the same time. She knew he was involved in some kind of Mage Underground – he had trusted her enough to tell her that much – but whenever she tried to get closer, to him, to his cause, he would push her away.

“I don’t need protecting.” She tells him in frustration when her help is soundly denied again. There are more Tranquil in the Gallows lately, she’s noticed, and so has he.

Surprisingly, he smiles, “Oh I know. But I’ll try anyway.”

“Then I’ll help anyway.” She fires back.

Anders scrutinizes her for a long moment. Perhaps it is difficult for him to trust others. Perhaps he cares for her more deeply than she knows.

“Alright,” he finally concedes, and Hawke feels a thrill of victory, “My friends in the Mage Underground say there’s a Templar plot, to turn every mage Tranquil within the next three years. Can you help me find more evidence of this?”

“Of course.” She replies, and feels more complete than she has done in months.

It scares people, when he embodies Justice, when his skin cracks under the pressure of his righteous fury and spills forth in blue waves from his body. Like fire, like water, blazing and flowing outward over all in his light. It doesn’t scare her. Hawke has only ever felt in awe of him, and wonder in how suddenly brave and powerful he makes her feel. Nothing will touch her while he is by her side, filled with vindicated rage at the world.

_I would drown us in blood to keep you safe._

Good.

 _Doesn’t he know love and fury can coexist?_ She thinks sadly as he runs away from her, from what he’d almost done to a fellow mage. She believes in him more than anything, but Anders doesn’t seem to believe much in himself.

Hawke decides she will show him he is more than capable of what is necessary for the cause. And that she is too.

It takes time, money, and a favour from Varric, but she is able to make contact with the Mage Underground. She has information to offer, given that Knight Captain Cullen just can't seem to resist telling her just how effectively the Templars have the mages in an iron grip. It feels good, to dedicate her time to this. There are many jobs to be done around Kirkwall, but none are as important to her. A fire has been lit in her soul now, the kind of fire she has been searching for all her life, to give her purpose. At last she feels more at peace with who she is and what she believes in. She has Anders to thank for it. Not entirely, no, she just needed someone to guide her, to channel her listless fire into something good.

 _This is how I’ll repay him,_ She thinks, sprinting through the narrow tunnel with only a mage light to guide her. Finally she sees them, and Hawke almost crashes into him in her haste.

Anders catches her, eyes wide.

“Hawke!” he exclaims, but she cuts him off.

“Anders,” she gasps, “It’s a trap. They know.”

He does not have to ask whom. He turns to his party but it is too late; the supposedly defected Templars are not so sympathetic to the cause of mages after all. They turn on the mages they swore to defend, and two are cut down before Anders freezes the blood in their veins. They fall, choking on the ice in their throats, but Hawke does not have to tell him more are coming.

“A set up,” Anders spits, “Of course. Why did I ever think otherwise?”

She helps him heal one of the injured mages while the other escapees push on at his insistence. The other however, cannot be helped, and Hawke closes the apprentice’s eyelids gently.

“You shouldn’t have come.” Anders tells her, his brow furrowed in concentration as his hands hover over the young mage’s skin, knitting the flesh back together.

Hawke smiles a little, “Too bad.”

His head snaps up and his golden eyes are blazing, and she is looking forward to a fabulously righteous lecture before they are rudely interrupted by the sounds of more people coming down the tunnel behind them.

“Take her and go.” She commands, standing and pounding her staff once on the ground eagerly.

“I won’t leave you.” Anders is just as firm, raising himself to his full height, ready to kill those who threaten his people, threaten _her._

Hawke ignores him, striding forward with determination until he catches her around the wrist, pulling her back.

“Hawke-” He starts, amid an anger borne out of fear for her safety, but she abruptly pulls him down and smothers his lips with her own harshly, kissing him with all her newfound fire. It lasts only a moment before he is shoved back, almost stumbling over his own feet, and he is left panting and shocked.

In the next second Hawke raises a fist and the tunnel collapses in front of him, cutting him off from following her.

“Hawke!” She hears him yell in panic, though his voice is heavily muffled, and she hopes he has enough sense not to try and break through.

She is just one and the Templars are many, yet she likes to think she put up a good fight. Three of them are dead and one severely injured before they manage to subdue her. They rough her up and drag her to the Gallows, accusing her of conspiring to free mages. They think they have finally caught one of the leaders of the Mage Underground, the one that’s been giving them so much trouble in Darktown.

She does not correct them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a second part to this in the works, following Anders around instead.
> 
> Originally Hawke was just going to sleep with Isabela in a port in the storm kind of way but Anders doesn't seem to be jealous of a relationship between Hawke and Isabela at all compared to Fenris, so I thought, well, why not have both?
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
